Meeting Him
Meeting Him meetcute stories
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naraesarang
naraesarang21yo with too many unrequited loves.
Autoplay OFF  •  6 months ago
Part 1 of a trilogy that I submitted for my English Writing class back in 2015.

Meeting Him

I first saw him in my favourite café,

Sitting on the table across from me.

His drink of choice was a latte,

Sipping on it slowly.

He was reading a book,

Staring at it intently.

His eyes slowly flicked from line to line,

Softly biting his lip as he eyed the eloquent words.

He slowly finished reading the worn page,

Looking over the top of the paperback,

His eyes softening as they locked onto mine.

The contact seemed to last a lifetime,

Neither of us willing to break it voluntarily.

Regretfully,

I broke the connection,

Blushing a colour only compared by a juicy, ripe tomato.

I grabbed my belongings that I had strewn across the table,

Throwing them in my satchel,

Trying to escape the awkward tension that was so clearly there.

I stood up,

Practically leaping from the cushioned chair,

Walking with my head down,

My back straight.

Trying to detract attention from myself,

I scuttled out the door,

Feeling the cool air fan my face as I stepped onto the pavement.

I heard my footsteps crunching on the debris,

The atmosphere otherwise silent around me.

Then I heard the short, sharp sounds,

Footsteps falling quickly behind me.

I turned in an instant,

My breath visible in the condensed winter’s air.

He was there,

Panting and clutching at his knees.

After catching his breath,

He straightened up,

His eyes frantically searching my face.

He spoke softly,

Telling me how he wouldn’t let me get away,

That even after the brief acquaintance,

He wanted to know more.

I rebutted all of his statements,

Knowing he’d be like all the others,

Getting to know the real me,

Then leaving under the cover of darkness.

He insisted,

Offering to take me out for a coffee,

Telling me it was optional.

I was unsure of what to think,

Would this be the one to finally love me?

I told him I’d think about it,

Gauging his reaction.

He didn’t seem overly worried,

Only mildly disappointed.

He fished a business card out of his jacket,

Handing it to me,

Asking me to call him when I’d decided.

I nodded sheepishly,

Reading the card before tucking it away in my pocket.

I bade him farewell after that,

Climbing into my toasty car.

Two days later,

I made my decision.

With trembling fingers,

I pressed the call button.

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